For three days, Holmes, the displaced time-traveler was busy trying to ascertain whether Alphonso Sylvius was indeed the man who stole the Mazarin Diamond of merely someone who the government dearly wanted to be guilty of any sort of punishable crime so they can finally have the reason to put him behind bars rather than have him out and about continuing his work facilitating wars through supply of illegal weaponry.

When it was clear that Holmes was running the investigation at full speed with no hint of rest, Catherine decided to stay over, taking up temporary residence in the mouldy and unused room of 221C. The flat felt awfully crowded those few days because Mrs Hudson would come up more often with tea and biscuits, especially when she found out that if John was too busy to prepare them any refreshments, Catherine would take over the kitchen and make them tea and coffee without any prompting. Mrs Hudson smacked John on the arm for that one, admonishing him about letting a visitor make the drinks instead of being a proper host that he was supposed to be. After managing to give her a look contrition, John scowled when the landlady's back was turned because he never remembered Sherlock being physically berated for bad manners.

On the fourth day, Sarah called, asking him to come over to cover for one of the doctors who has fallen sick. He left 221B, last seeing Holmes sitting still on the couch with his fingers steepled under his chin in thought and Catherine engrossed with her blackberry.

It was nearly 6 in the afternoon when he got back from the clinic and saw Holmes with two strange men in the living room. One of them sat his chair and while the other stood beside the window overlooking the street. The two men's faces looked grim while Holmes was a picture of smug satisfaction. If it was Sherlock, John would be itching for his gun by now but Holmes... no, Holmes was a gentleman. Surely, he has more tact than his deceased best-friend. Still...

"Hello," John greeted them hesitantly, trying to cut through the tension in the room which seemed to be directed at Holmes. "Clients? John Watson. Hello."

"Ah, doctor," said Holmes, cheerfully, "Remember me telling you about The Mazarin Stone-"

The two men's attention snapped back two Holmes, both glaring at the dark-haired man in hostility. John's trigger finger itched again.

"Darling!"

Suddenly all four men turned to the melodious voice coming from behind them. There was Catherine in all her sultry beauty, just stepping out of Sherlock's room where Holmes has been put up during his stay in modern-day London.

John would've wondered who Catherine was calling 'darling' but he was too busy trying to keep hic tongue from rolling out from his slack jaw when he saw what the auburn haired woman was wearing - a sheer black open night gown and underneath it a silk black teddy showcasing generous curves and unblemished skin, it's tone a healthy tan that John could easily fantasize she has managed to acquire by sunbathing topless on a beach in a Mediterranean island somewhere warm and exotic.

"You said you wouldn't be long!" Catherine said, pouting.

"One moment, darling," Holmes said before turning to the two strangers, "I'm giving you twenty minutes, gentleman. When I come back out, I expect an answer from you."

"I still call you bluff," one of the men answered with a growl in his tone.

"You wouldn't be here if you thought that," Holmes pointed out, his voice dripping condescension, "You came here to know what I know and after what I've told you, you still doubt the scope of my knowledge, then you are a foolish man."
Holmes then turned to John and said, "Doctor Watson. If you would be so kind as to ask Mrs Hudson to prepare us some tea..."

"Not your housekeeper, Holmes," John muttered, finally managing to wrench his eyes away from the woman still standing at the door to Sherlock's bedroom. "And Mrs Hudson would say the same."

Holmes ignored him and walked up to Catherine and to John's shock, cupped her by the jaw and gave her a passionate kiss. The woman gave as good as she got and the doctor was sure they'd keep on snogging and groping in front him and the two other men if she hadn't pulled Holmes into the bedroom and shut the door firmly behind them. From behind the door, they could hear giggles and breathless endearments before John cleared his throat loudly, announcing that yes, he thinks he should go get that tea now, and quickly scarpered downstairs to Mrs Hudson's.

John spent the time chatting with the landlady and when he deemed 20 minutes suitably passed, the doctor carefully made his way up to 221B with a tray of tea & biscuits only to be nearly knocked over by the two visitors stomping down the stairs hurriedly and out the door. John sighed and continued his way up and when he arrived in the flat, it was to see Holmes lying on the couch, thankfully, properly attired as per usual and Catherine busy with her blackberry, regretfully, also properly attired as per usual.

"So-" John began but was silenced by Holmes who held up a finger to cut him off.

"Is it done?" Holmes asked and Catherine answered, "I have relayed the coordinates to the extraction team on stand-by and they will be there in 5 minutes. The surveillance team will follow Alphonso Sylvius and his assistant and be ready to place the two men in custody and as soon as they are found handling the stolen item. The audio and visual evidence acquired ten minutes ago in this room will be the additional information to be handed over to the prosecutors."

"Ten minutes-" John gaped, pointing at the two. "Is that what you two were doing just now?"

Holmes hummed. "Our lack of discretion lulls Mr Sylvius into their own lack of discretion. An argument between them began in this room and with the help of a wondrous voice transmitter provided by Miss Catherine, have unwittingly exposed the hiding place of the diamond. They're most probably on their way to transfer the stone to a better hiding place while they try to acquire the ridiculously high amount of money I demand to keep my silence."

The doctor stared at him. "You blackmailed Alphonso Sylvius? A man who is in the British terror watch list? Wait, start from the beginning. How did you manage to make him come to you?"

"By making him aware of the information I have at my disposal in regards to his businesses, courtesy of one femme-fatale working at one of the top secret government agencies of Britain."

"Having an affair with Catherine you mean?" John looked at Catherine who smiled indulgently at him.

"Yes," Holmes said, "Her appearance was an effective distraction."

John fervently agreed. Then, a thought came to his mind. "Wait, Sylvius could've easily had someone murder you and Catherine. He trades weapons, Holmes!"

"It was a risk, but lessened exponentially for Catherine's sake, she being at the employ of a secret government agency. If he murdered both Catherine and myself just now, he would have alerted Catherine's employer, making him more a person of interest than before."

John shook his head and sighed. "So the case is closed? Well, that was anti-climatic. I feel so redundant with Catherine here. Not that I don't enjoy your company," the doctor quickly said, giving the woman in what he hoped was a charming smile that would this time impress her.

Catherine smiled back, though more teasing than being charmed. "I doubt you would look good in lingerie than I would, doctor."

Holmes gave a muffled laughter, while John rolled his eyes, embarrassed.

"Well," Catherine said, walking up to the coat stand for her coat and putting it on. "My job here is done. Thank you, Mr Vernet. Doctor. Good day."

"What," John said, surprised, "Now?" Catherine did not reply and walked right out the door and when John & Holmes took a look out the window, there was a black car waiting for her and as soon as she got in, the car drove off without the woman looking back at them even once.

John sighed. "Naked women seem to have an affinity for throwing themselves onto Sherlock Holmeses. I can't say I'm not jealous, though how were you able to stand it? You gave me a right talking to about my shirt sleeves when I stayed with you that first time."

Holmes flapped his hand in the air in a non-chalant manner. "The objective defeats decency. Also, did I misheard the plural of my name? Has my future counterpart come up against a woman of the same dangerous wiles as the beautiful Catherine?"

"Ah, now that is a story not for the blog," John said with a chuckle, turning away from the window to walk to his chair. "National Security and all that-"

The next day, John came down from his room to find out that Holmes has disappeared. Mrs Hudson has heard nothing and after a quick call to Mycroft, even the ever watchful British government couldn't find any trace of 221B's temporary lodger.

"You do realise your life from now on will be under constant surveillance regardless of you being in Baker Street or not. Just in case Charles decides to contact you again." Mycroft told him, the man's voice laced with mild threat clear through the phone.

"What? You mean I wasn't on constant surveillance before?" John snarked.

"Good day, Dr Watson," was all Mycroft said before he promptly hung up.

John pocketed his phone as he sighed in resignation. Wherever Holmes might have gone to - and John knew he must've gone back to his own time - John wished the man well. As for himself... the doctor bit his lip and looked at around. It was time for him to begin his new life.

It was time to leave Baker Street.

Holmes woke up to a numbing chill that has been absent for days. He sat up, and looking around at his surroundings, realised that he was back in the cottage at the highlands where he has holed himself during his recuperation.

With a sigh Holmes got out of bed, washed his face with the water in the basin and walked out of the bedroom to warm himself in front of the fire already built by the caretaker in the drawing room.

As he was pouring himself some tea - prepared by the caretaker's wife - there came a knock on the door. He only knew a few people that would traipse to the highlands in search for him so it came to no surprise when he saw one of the Bakerstreet irregulars standing outside the door with a letter for him. With a wave of his hand, he ushered the boy in to help himself for some tea and cakes while Holmes walked to the fireplace to read the letter in peace. After he finished reading it, he tapped the paper to his lips, staring at the fire in thought. Then he walked to the writing desk and sat down, taking a moment before he wrote a simple note and sat back with a wistful look at the sight of his friend's name in his severe handwriting. Then he took an ink blotter and pressed it on the paper before folding the note neatly in two. As if blessing the paper with a prayer, he brushed the note against his lips before turning back to the boy who was now on his second cup of tea.

After a few coins and instructions that the note be sent to Doctor Watson in secret, the boy left, leaving Holmes alone again in the cottage. The man fixed himself a pipe and sat down on the chair near the fire, the inside of his head surprisingly quiet with deep contemplation. After the hustle and bustle of future-London, his mind was strangely at peace, as one would when struck with a sudden epiphany that would end all doubts and calm all fears. Oh, he has no doubt there will still be troubled thoughts and dreams but at least he can claim sanctuary from time to time at the memory of 221B's comfort and his friend, Watson-'s warm affection.

Thinking back to the other world, Holmes knew the man bearing his name would sooner or later return to the other doctor Watson. He hoped the man wouldn't take too long, though, because there is only so much time before a man's grief would turn to bitterness, making forgiveness that much more difficult to attain. And he can't bear that thought, because how many version of him and Watson in whatever world or time, he knew in his heart the two are always a part of the other, forever Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

Holmes gathered his smoking jacket tighter to his body and stood up. He needs to go back to London. It was time that he delve back into the allure of puzzles and adventure together with his dear friend, Watson.

It was time to return to Baker Street.